


What we Lost in the Fire (We Gained in the Flood)

by karrenia_rune



Category: Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: Fic or Treat Meme, Gen, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Hook returns to Modern Day London, and what he finds there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What we Lost in the Fire (We Gained in the Flood)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts).



What had prompted him to choose this particular inlet cave was dim to him, but it did make a handy place to use as a cache for their latest haul of loot. And as captain, he'd made the decision to sail away from the territory claimed by the Indian tribes.

Hook did not really care one way or the other; however, he did understand that a part of his reasoning had to do with the notion that it was better to live to fight another day then borrow unnecessary trouble.  
The cave was large enough and mostly limestone, the porous kind, but once he'd sent in a few scouts to make sure it was hidden and secure and dry enough then it was that they'd hauled in the casks, and ingots of gold and silver and set a several torches burning inside as a marker so that could return for the loot when they needed to.

While he supervised his attention wandered and he saw a gleam of light emanating from deeper within the cavern. If he'd been thinking rationally he might not have followed them, but follow them he did. His first mate, Smee, belated call questioning and a bit apprehensive, fell on deaf ears. 

Hook followed the lies, which reminded him a bit of the light that fell across the dome of the sky at evening on the ocean, and went deeper his booted foot making the only sound. 

After a while it began to feel much as if he were within a waking dream. When the lights came to a gaping hole inside the bones of the earth, he hesitates; but whatever the source of the lights; brief pinpricks that swirled and danced and lured him own, he stepped through.

The lights faded and he felt as if he were being sucked through a wind storm, and he blacked out.  
****  
When James Hook came to, at last, he was no longer within the cavern. Instead, he lay supine on his back on a smooth paved surface. It was cool and wet and the susurrus of noises came from every direction.  
Accustomed to reacting quickly to whatever situation that he found himself in, Hook immediately sat up, reaching for the dagger at his belt as he did so.

 

The expression of befuddled alarm on the florid face of the drunk man was priceless but Hook did not have time or the leisure to appreciate it.

The man held out his hands in a dumb expression of no harm, no foul. Hook glared at him; after all, he was a pirate and he had a reputation to maintain. After that was done and the man had wandered away, Hook turned his attention to his immediate problem.

Where the hell was he? He scrambled up and stepped away from the curb to get his bearings. It was the tag-end of the evening and yet there were lights everywhere, pedestrians and motorists; without horses or other means of propulsion to carry them on their way. The vehicles came in all shapes and sizes, and colors, and zig and zagged and gave off a smell that reminded him of gunpowder, tobacco smoke and something undefinable but not as pleasant as the first two items. They were also noisy, and what with his lack of sleep, disorientation, combined to give him a pounding headache.

"Hey, you git, get out of the way!" one of the motorists called out to him as he barreled down the street.

Hook had half a mind to give the man what for, but pushed the urge down to deal with more important matters; such as where the hell was he? What was he going to do about it? 

Even as he pondered these things something undefinable seemed to catch his heart and mind; something familiar in the shapes, smells, and sensations of his new surroundings.  
A part of his memory that perhaps had been long buried, buried so deep that even he could not recognize it right away; but there nonetheless. The river that ran through the city, the bell tower that cast a perpendicular shadow over the city. 

"Well, Damn me for a blind beggar," Hook gasped. "It's London, that's the Thames and that's Big Ben!"

The wind skirled around and it was cold, but the people apparently did not seem to notice it, for they carried on, laughing, talking, shopping, unfurling umbrellas and with children in tow. 

A small green kiosk with a clear glass window offered folded newsprint of a kind he had never seen before, along with glossy magazines, cigarettes, novelties, candies, waters and juices. Hook realized that he was thirsty, but he much preferred rum or even ale to juice or water, but oh well. He grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap and downed it in several greedy gulps. The bored-looking attendant hardly noticed. 

Hook He also grabbed a newspaper and scanned the headlines, something about an election of a new prime minister, the pound had dropped again, and the unions were organizing; whatever that meant. It was only until he noticed the date in the corner of the topmost page that gave him pause. The date read December 20th, 2014.

In the back of his mind Hook thought, 'That can't be right, can it. It must be a misprint. London can't have changed all that much while I've been away in Neverland, can it?'  
**  
He chose a direction at random and began to walk, this time careful to avoid the horseless carriages, that seemed to be everywhere all at once, the din and the smell that reminded him a little bit of gunpowder but mixed with something else, was a bit off-putting but he ignored it as best he could.

A man dressed in a tatty white robe that had obviously seen better days approached him at one point, arms full of pamphlets and "Hey, there, man. Have I got good news for you!"

"I sincerely doubt that, me lad." Hook replied, folding his arms across his chest, hiding his hook hand within the folds of his great-coat.

"Oh, for you see," the young man replied, pulling a pamphlet printed on glossy paper and handing it over, "I have heard the path to salvation only $19.99 tax deductible."

"Hmm, so you're in the business of saving other folks' souls?" Hook asked, only idly glancing at the glossy pamphlet.

"Yes, Yes," replied the young man earnestly.

"I should wonder at the fervor of your endeavors or your affiliations. Are you with the Church of England?" James Hook wondered if he were merely toying with the young man, or if a part of him really did believe that the man was on the level. 

, After all, it had been a long time since he considered that status of his own soul, or even if he had one. He must, mustn't he? Everyone had a soul, even the animals, so it stood to reason that somewhere along the way he might consider his eternal reward every once in a while. He thought, 'I don't want the world to see me because I don't think they would understand. and I was alone in the dark, and fear and intimidation was my truth. I think I'm getting maudlin in my old age. Get a grip, Hook." Aloud he grimaced and clenched his fist. "How very droll."

"Kind of," the young man replied, a bit taken aback.

"Well, well," James Hook muttered, "I was hoping for something a bit more substantial than that," handing the pamphlet back. "A nice effort, but I'm afraid I shall have to pass."

"I, I still think you should give it a try!"

"Not today, but perhaps you would be so good as to direct to me the nearest and best pub. I find I am famished and I need something to wet my whistle. I am hungry, wet, and thirsty."

"Harry's on Main," the young man answered at once. "It's my uncles, and he has the best ale!"

"Then Harry's it is and my thanks to you, lad."


End file.
